


Change of Heart

by afrai



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Series, References to John Childermass and John Segundus but they don't actually appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrai/pseuds/afrai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds." </p><p>Post-series, Jonathan Strange returns from the Darkness to find his world not quite as he left it, and Arabella must make a difficult decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change of Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Skip to the end for mildly spoilery content notes about the pairings in this story.

There was no lack of reports of the Reading of Vinculus, and Sir Walter Pole might have learnt of the great magic John Childermass had cast from any one of innumerable sources. Yet perhaps it was not surprising that he should wish to hear an account of the return of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell from Jonathan Strange himself. 

Strange was in no humour to be understanding, however. 

"Really, Pole, I will be happy to bore you with every detail of where we have been and what we have done, but you cannot expect me to do it now," he said. "I came precisely because I hoped you could tell me where to find my wife. Childermass said you would know. I would have thought he might have kept an eye on Arabella, but I suppose he has had other affairs to occupy himself with." 

He said this grudgingly, as though Childermass had not just wrought magic upon a scale and wonder unheard of since the days of the Raven King. Sir Walter glanced at him, wondering if this was professional envy, but there was only impatience on the magician's countenance. 

In most material respects Jonathan Strange had not changed, despite his spending some fifteen years in realms unknown to any mortal other than himself, Mr Norrell and (presumably) John Uskglass. He looked much as he had before he had vanished. He had not aged, and there might even be less grey in his hair than there had been before -- Sir Walter could not recall. His ironic manner, his mercurial moods and his habit of wandering around the room and making odd remarks upon anything that caught his notice remained. 

But sometimes, in a fleeting moment between one word and the next, something new and not altogether mortal came and looked out of the eyes of Jonathan Strange. This was no alien being, but Strange himself, though Strange as Sir Walter had never known him. 

Sir Walter neither liked it nor understood it, but he had more pressing matters to worry about and so he did not permit himself to dwell upon the point.

"Childermass certainly knows where Mrs. Strange lives," he said. 

"Indeed? I wonder that he did not tell me!" 

Sir Walter did not wonder. Childermass had been clever to deflect the question. Childermass certainly owed him a favour for the turn he had served him, but Sir Walter thought this without rancour. It was not an explanation any man could decently make but himself. Unfortunately, Sir Walter was not sure how to make it. 

"She lives with Lady Pole," he said. 

"I had thought she might do something of the sort," said Strange, looking around Sir Walter's drawing room as though freshly noticing the absence of any sign of Lady Pole's presence. "It must have been a sad inconvenience to Arabella that all our houses vanished with me. I thought it likely she would go to your wife, if not Henry. But Henry is married, of course. I suppose his wife is disagreeable. Is Lady Pole in the country?" 

"Yes," said Sir Walter. He paused. "She rarely comes to London." 

When Lady Pole did visit London, she did not stay with Sir Walter, but he did not need to say so much. Strange caught his meaning, and looked embarrassed. 

"Certainly! It is not to be expected that she should like it, after her trials," he said. After a moment he added, with constraint: 

"I owe you an apology. I took Norrell's word for it that her madness had nothing to do with the enchantment he had performed. I ought to have pressed him harder for the truth." A wry look of amusement ghosted across his face. "Of course, I was punished for my inattention in the end." 

"No," said Sir Walter, in alarm, "pray do not apologise." So much had happened since -- there had for so long been no doubt whatsoever that Lady Pole was in possession of all her wits, and perfectly capable of defending herself -- that he had nearly forgotten Mr. Norrell's old treachery. It had been overlaid by fresher betrayals, far more painful. 

"To own the truth, it is I who ought to apologise to you," he said. "I believe it was Lady Pole's notion that your wife should ... live with her." 

He spoke in all sincerity. He could not know what had passed between his wife and Strange's before they had come to their present arrangement, but in all likelihood it was Lady Pole who had led Mrs. Strange astray, and not the reverse. Sir Walter had scarcely been married to Emma before she had begun to suffer the effects of her enchantment, of course. They could not be said to have really known each other. Perhaps it was not surprising that Lady Pole's inclinations should run that way. 

Mrs. Strange, on the other hand, had always struck Sir Walter as a perfectly contented wife, and Strange's conduct upon her apparent death had certainly been that of a man who regretted a happy union. One might say he ought not to return after fifteen years and expect nothing to have changed. But Sir Walter could not help feeling sorry for him: it would be a crueller shock than a man who had rendered such service to his nation deserved. 

He could not find the words to make the situation clear to Strange, however. He looked at the magician desperately, hoping he would somehow divine his meaning, but Strange only said: 

"Not at all. It was kind of Lady Pole. I must beg your pardon for my impatience, Pole, but you will understand that I wish to go to my wife directly. I should not like Arabella to feel I have delayed in going to her. It has been five hours since I have returned! Are they very secluded? Will it take long to travel there?" He looked speculatively at a mirror. 

"Lady Pole will not have any looking glasses in her house," said Sir Walter. 

"Ah," said Strange. "I had forgotten. Of course not." 

"It will not take long," said Sir Walter. He suppressed a sigh at his own weakness. Perhaps it was best for Strange to see it for himself. He was so distracted that Sir Walter could not possibly make him understand without putting them both fatally out of countenance. "I beg you will take my carriage."

* * *

Arabella had come to stop imagining the moment of her reunion with Jonathan. For so many years it was a picture she had called up to comfort herself, a scene she had rehearsed in a thousand ways. But in time it had given more pain than consolation, and finally she had put it away. 

Of course she still thought of him -- still saw him in every stray reflection in a window, in every mirror-like puddle after the rain, in every rustle of leaves sounding like human speech. She would see and hear him so, in imagined snatches, in glimpses out of the corner of her eye, for the rest of her life. There was nothing unnatural in this. Emma need not be made anxious by it, said Arabella. 

"It is only because he is a part of me," she said. "And will be till the day I die." 

She was reconciled. She had promised Jonathan she would not grieve, or be a widow. She put away what could not be and resolved to be happy, as he would have wished. So she was not prepared. 

Mary entered the sitting room looking as though she had seen a ghost: 

"Oh, madam," she cried, "to think I should have lived to see the day!" 

"What is the matter, Mary?" said Emma. 

Arabella half-rose before she heard his voice. 

"I would not have known you, Mary," he said. "But I suppose I can hardly reproach anyone for being altered." 

He spoke lightly, but anxiety threaded through his voice. Arabella swayed and Emma put out her hand, but Arabella did not see it. Her eyes were fixed upon the man at the door. 

"Arabella," he said. He smiled, his eyes searching her face. "You look well." 

It was he, and not he. He had changed beyond imagining, and yet it was he, flesh of her flesh and bone of her bone. She could not have failed to know him anywhere. 

"Jonathan," she said, in a shaking voice. "Jonathan Strange!" 

He held out his hands and she went into his arms. For a moment all that had passed -- time, magic, distance, grief -- was forgotten. It was as though they had never been parted. 

Jonathan was pressing kisses upon her upturned face. There might not have been anyone else in the room for all the attention he paid them, but Arabella pulled away, thinking of Mary, and she heard a small noise behind her. 

"Emma!" she exclaimed.

Jonathan was too exhilarated to be embarrassed -- and of course, he did not know. He put his arm around Arabella's waist and bowed. "Lady Pole. I beg your pardon for the intrusion." 

Arabella flinched. Emma was pale, but she said with the greatest composure: 

"Welcome back, Mr. Strange. I am glad to see you alive." 

"Yes," said Jonathan. He was looking at Arabella, but she was looking at Emma. It worried her that she could not tell what her friend was thinking.

* * *

"Ashfair seems to have returned to Shropshire," said Jonathan that evening. "I confess I did not go into it much when I was -- away. I believe it is in some disrepair, and apparently it is very dirty, but that is nothing that cannot be remedied. I expect we will be able to move in within a month. I thought we might stay at an inn in the meantime, but perhaps we ought to take a house in the neighbourhood instead. What do you think?" 

"Take a house in Shropshire?" said Arabella. "Whatever for?"

"We will wish to be nearby to supervise the works. There were improvements I wished to carry out before, you know -- " before he had been swallowed by the Darkness for more than a decade, he meant -- "and there may be improvements _you_ desire. We may as well have them all done now, and if they are disruptive we will not want to move in until they are completed. We can hardly trespass upon Lady Pole's hospitality any longer."

"Trespass?" said Arabella blankly, and then the full horror of the situation dawned upon her. Since Jonathan's arrival she had been so overtaken by joy, and then by worry for Emma, that she had not had the occasion to think about what his return meant for Jonathan. 

He still looked at her with that shining gaze, more convincing than any assertion that he saw no change in her, but she had lived every minute of the fifteen years he had been away, and it showed in her person. She was no longer young, and she was not quite so pretty as she had once been, though that had not troubled her, since she had never lacked for love. 

She did not appear so much older than Jonathan that people would think her his aunt or mother, thank goodness, but they would certainly draw strange looks when they went out together. Time had not passed for him as it had passed for her -- and for Emma.

"My love," she said, in distress, for it was an impossible situation -- she hated to cause him pain, but how could she avoid it? "I did not explain myself properly. We did not make it clear how things stand. We would not be trespassing upon Emma's hospitality. This is my house as much as hers."

"Oh!" said Jonathan. He had not understood. "That is kind of her, but all the same, we are some distance from home. Besides, do not you think we shall be more comfortable by ourselves, Bell?"

Only Emma had called her Bell for the past many years. Arabella had told her at the very beginning of their acquaintance that it was what Jonathan called her. To hear it from him now gave Arabella a grievous pang.

He took her hand and was looking at her in happy confidence, wholly trusting in her agreement. How he loved her! And how she loved him! 

But she had not thought he would ever come back to her. He had left her with an entire life to live -- a sacred charge, since he had suffered so much for her liberty. She had done what she could to avoid breaking her heart over him. She could not clear it out again simply because he was no longer only a memory.

"Jonathan," she said, "what did Sir Walter tell you about Lady Pole and me?"

Something in her voice seemed to warn him. For the first time he looked uncertain, and said:

"He said you lived together .... " He looked into her eyes and whatever he saw there made him drop her hand. "But that was not all he meant. Was it, Bell?"

She could hear that he wished her to contradict him, to persuade him that he was mistaken. He would gladly have accepted a falsehood. Arabella longed to lie. It seemed to go against every fibre of her being to withhold the comfort he desired. But she thought of Emma and hardened herself, though her eyes were full of tears.

"I have wanted you, Jonathan, so much," she said. "But I stopped hoping for your return. It seemed right. It hurt more than I can say to give you up, but I had to. I could not be happy if I did not lay to rest the hope that you would be restored to me. And Emma -- "

"Was there," said Jonathan, in a curious, flat tone. "And I was not."

Anyone else might have thought it an odd manner in which to receive such intelligence as Arabella was giving him. Arabella heard the agony in his voice and reached out, but she did not dare touch him. Her hand fell to her side.

"I waited for years," she said. "They told me I should not."

"They were quite right," he said. "I remember. I told you not to wait. I told you to be happy." He looked down at his hands.

"You have been happy?" he said.

Arabella nodded. She would not lie. "Emma has been -- " But Jonathan was not likely to wish to hear a recitation of Lady Pole's virtues. "I have been happy with her. But I have missed you."

"I was glad to see you were not wearing black," said Jonathan, half to himself. "I did not think .... " But he did not say what he did not think. After a moment he said:

"I have no right to claim any injury! I cannot say I missed you when I was away. When I thought you were dead, Bell, I could not bear that. That was ... exceedingly painful. But after the enchantment overtook Norrell and me -- I do not think we were alive, though we were not dead. We were everywhere and nowhere. I was not myself. I do not believe I _was_."

He rose to look out of the window. Speaking of his absence, he had looked as he had done, long ago, when he had told Arabella about the King's Roads. Her heart clenched. She said:

"You will not -- you don't mean to go away again?" She could hardly protest if he decided to.

"No," said Jonathan, after a moment. He sounded surprised. He turned around and looked at her, and his eyes softened. "I find it still gives me more pleasure than pain to look upon my wife -- if I can call her that. I suppose I should account myself fortunate you did not marry again."

"I would never have considered it!" exclaimed Arabella. "I am your wife, Jonathan, as much as I ever was. With Emma, it was only that it seemed I could love her, because we had loved one another even before you went away, and she understood how I felt about you. She knew what it was to have magic steal away what one holds most dear."

This last she said in a faltering voice. It seemed so hollow to offer it to Jonathan, with all that had altered in his absence. He must feel it as an insult.

But Jonathan understood her, as he always had. He said, with his dear familiar smile, concealing grief with amusement:

"Yes. That is something we all have in common." 

The smile dropped away. He fixed upon her a grave, intent look, taking her in. "You do still love me, then, Bell?"

"I have never stopped," Arabella said.

She almost wished he would be angry, but instead Jonathan dropped on his knees beside her, taking her hands and kissing them. His relief was palpable.

"Then come away with me," he said. "We need not go to Shropshire. We could go anywhere at all. Venice, perhaps." A smile, self-mocking, passed over his face. "If that city still possesses any charms for you! But there are a great many pleasant places in the world we may go, without being troubled by unhappy memories. I will not presume upon our -- former connection. I suppose you have changed, as much as I. But let us be reacquainted. Let us learn again what it is to be husband and wife."

Arabella touched his face and he turned to kiss her palm. Her heart turned over in her chest.

"I should like that of all things," she said. She could not quite keep her voice level. He brightened, but before he could speak Arabella continued, "But my love, I cannot leave Emma. I have made her promises too. She deserves better of me than that I should abandon her now."

She felt as though she had slapped him. Jonathan's eyes had all a hurt child's shocked incomprehension. But then he shook himself. His face darkened.

"Oh, you have made each other promises, have you?" He sprang to his feet and paced around the room. "Promises that outweigh your marriage vows?"

"They are of equal weight to me," said Arabella.

Fear was making Jonathan reckless. She could see it, but she was powerless to stop it, as she could once easily have done -- with a mere word, a touch at the right moment, a jest to divert his thoughts. Now she could only clasp her hands to prevent their trembling too obviously, as he snapped:

"It is a long time since we were married, but you might recall your vows were made not only to me. They were made before God!"

At any other time it might have been amusing to hear Jonathan pray his creator in aid, when he had never before given Him two thoughts in his life, but they were both too distressed to find his speech funny.

"Emma was with me when I was taken by the enchanter," said Arabella. "It was she who prayed over me when I had forgotten God and myself. She stayed by me when you left, and I had no one else."

From her to him this could not be anything but a reproach, one Jonathan could not counter, however angry he was. His face twisted. Arabella longed to go to him, to put her arms around him and have him relax into her as he had always done before. But if he were to draw away from her now, she did not think she could bear it.

"I cannot abandon her now," she repeated. "But my feelings for you have not changed. How could they? It was Emma who held me when I mourned for you, she who consoled me in my misery -- "

"I beg you will not say any more about her," said Jonathan tightly. "I cannot bear it."

"I am making a hash of this," said Arabella, distressed. She surrendered to what every instinct desired, rising and touching his arm.

He did not recoil. That was something. 

"What I meant to say was that I have longed for you, Jonathan," she said. "You were my life. You know there was no one I loved better on this earth. But for years you were not on this earth, and I was compelled to keep on living. You laid that upon me!" She smiled, though the compulsion had been bitter enough at the time. "Cannot we live together -- the three of us? I know you do not really know one another, but you could become acquainted. Emma would try her best, I know. She is accustomed to sharing me with you."

"Well, I am not accustomed to sharing you with anyone!" snapped Jonathan. "If your Emma is so obliging, I do not see why she does not give up my wife to me."

Arabella had forgotten how provoking Jonathan could be. She had been resolved to be gentle, to persuade him by sweetness and patience, for hers was not a proposal any man could easily accept. But she forgot all her resolutions at the sneering sound of Emma's name in his mouth.

"Really, Jonathan, it is too much of you to reproach Emma for refusing to give me up, when you would not let me go even in the face of death! Besides, you are unjust. If Emma will not release me, it is because I do not choose to go."

Jonathan said savagely, "Yes -- I fought to hold onto you, but now you have given me up!"

"You will throw that in my face, will you?" cried Arabella. "But it is nothing to be proud of, I assure you! You do not know how angry I have been at you!"

Jonathan blinked. "Angry at me? What for?"

"You used yourself shockingly!" she said. "I would have stopped you if I had known what you were doing. Jonathan, if I had really been dead, my life could never have been worth your tormenting yourself so horribly."

"Don't be absurd," said Jonathan impatiently. "Perhaps I became a little high-strung -- paid less attention to my linen than I ought -- but it was nothing of any consequence."

"What dreadful falsehoods you are telling. You must recall that Mr. Segundus wrote your biography. I have read all about your descent into madness. And the world may pity you for it, Jonathan, but I will tell you, since no one else will, you ought to have known better!"

Jonathan had always rather liked to be upbraided by her when he was in a mood for it. He was certainly not in a mood for it now, but even so the familiarity of it seemed to calm him. His anger fled, he said:

"I did not care what happened to me, so long as I could recover you. Nothing could possibly be worse than your being lost to me." He smiled, though there was no mirth in it. "I little thought I would lose you in the end!"

"You have not lost me," said Arabella crossly. "I have said I love you. Surely you cannot disbelieve it." Their attachment had been such an unquestioned, immutable reality for both -- the foundation upon which their lives had been built -- that it seemed ridiculous to need to justify it, even with all that had changed. "It is only that I love you both."

"Well, you cannot have us both," said Jonathan. He glared at her. The look was remarkably familiar: it was in just this manner that Jonathan had stared at Arabella back in the days when he sought to persuade her to marry him. Courtship had seemed to put him in a state of continual irritation, but Arabella suspected he had rather enjoyed it. He had been terribly bored in those days, poor soul!

"Has not it occurred to you to consider Sir Walter Pole's feelings?" said Jonathan. "He is a friend, despite everything that has happened. I can hardly ask his wife to live with me in a _menage_!"

"Oh," said Arabella, without thinking, "I do not think Emma would wish to live with you. She has vowed never to live under another's roof again, you know -- certainly not a man's house. I had thought we would live here with her."

"Oh yes," cried Jonathan, "that would be fine! The world already thinks me the perpetrator of the blackest magics. I am said to have murdered you and killed Norrell, even though you are alive, and Norrell is even now rushing around the country restocking his library. Now I am to live in the house of another man's wife! That is bound to seal my reputation."

"You never cared what the world thought before."

"That is true," said Jonathan, with a painful twist of his mouth. "Yours was the only opinion I cared for."

Arabella felt all at once how impossible it was to offer him any comfort. She could not bear to hurt him so, but she could see no alternative. Certainly she could not betray Emma -- Emma, who had told her that she had given orders for a room to be prepared for Mr. Strange, but had drawn away when Arabella tried to thank her in their usual fashion, with a kiss.

"We had better not do that anymore," Emma had said.

It had come as a shock to see rejection in a face that had only shown her welcome and affection before. 

"I had not thought -- " Arabella had begun, but she did not know what she meant to say.

"Nor had I," said Emma drily. "I had stopped fearing he would return, Bell. It is a judgment upon me for benefiting from your grief. For not desiring your happiness as completely as I ought."

"I have been happy. You know I have been."

"But we pay the price for it now," said Emma. Her eyes were as clear as ever. "I do not envy you! _My_ heart is as it ever was. And so is his. You have the harder choices to make."

Thinking of Emma's clarity and courage, Arabella made another choice. The sort of choice, she thought, Emma would make herself, though it might tear the heart out of her.

She must seem selfish, Arabella could see that. Even if she thought her resolution was correct -- even if she could not see what else she could do -- she had no right to torment Jonathan so. He had suffered too much already. Surely he deserved all he desired: a life of peace, of tranquil affection unshadowed by jealousy or regret.

All this was still open to him. He was yet young, for a man. Arabella dug her fingernails into her palm, but her voice was steady when she spoke.

"I know how much I ask of you," she said. "I know how much you have sacrificed on my account." 

She swallowed the addendum, _Though I wish you had not done it_. It was neither just nor true, after all, for she had not been dead, and had not she been glad to be alive and free for the past fifteen years? She had been happy at least as much as she had been miserable for wanting Jonathan.

"You should not feel you must make any further sacrifice," she continued. "I am bound by my promises, Jonathan. I have offered all I can, but you must not feel compelled to accept it. It is a long time since we were married, and a great deal has passed since then. You must not feel bound -- " She choked on what she wished to say: a curate's daughter could not easily contemplate the disgrace of a divorce, but she could not think of herself. Jonathan deserved better of her. 

"You should feel at liberty to do whatever will make you happy," she said, clearing her throat. "I will make no difficulty. You must know there are many lady magicians now. Your friend Mrs. Flora Sullivan -- Miss Greysteel that was -- since her husband died she has become renowned as a magician, and I am sure she remembers you."

If Jonathan had been vexed before, he lost his temper completely now. He rounded upon her. "Do not you dare palm me off upon Flora Greysteel!"

"Flora Sullivan -- "

"Whatever she is called, I have no intention of marrying her or anybody else!" Jonathan exclaimed. "You know what would make me happy. It is you -- not half your heart, but all of it! If you wish to jilt me, Arabella, you may do so and I will go away. But you must have the courage to tell me you have chosen another. I will not have you passing me on at your convenience, like some sort of parcel. If you will deprive my life of everything that gave it meaning -- if you mean to destroy my hopes of happiness -- you must strike the blow with your own hand. I will accept it." He smiled. "I suppose I will survive!"

Arabella had been determined not to cry. It was bound to weaken Jonathan, and she did not mean to allow anything that would give her an advantage over him. But she could not bear to look at him any longer. She dropped her face in her hands.

"You make me wretched, Jonathan," she whispered. She could not help it.

"That is the very last thing I desire," said Jonathan. 

But he seemed to know as well as she that they were not capable of doing anything but making one another wretched. He ran his hands through his hair, looked around the room with an air of desperation, and said:

"It is late. I had not realised it. We ought to be in bed -- oh, God!"

It had clearly not struck him before that the import of what Arabella had told him must be that for a decade she had shared her bed with another.

"Jonathan," said Arabella, full of pity, but --

"No, no!" he said, raising a hand as if to ward off a blow. "You had better retire. Good night!" He flung himself out of the room.

* * *

Jonathan had thought he would not sleep, but after lying grimly awake for an age, he started and realised the room was light. He did not recall the sun rising. Unconsciousness had come, after all, but it could not have lasted forever.

 _I will go away,_ he thought. He indulged himself briefly with the idea: the cool bodiless space behind the sky, on the other side of the rain. He thought of what it would be, to be wholly immersed in magic again … and how much it would upset Arabella.

But his declaration was unconvincing. It was what an affronted child would say in his pique. He knew he would stay -- stay, and quarrel with Arabella. 

Surely she could be persuaded. She had sworn she loved him, and Arabella would not lie (he rather wished she had, for once). She _must_ still love him, enough to give up this absurd fancy. Anything else was unthinkable.

Still, he thought about it. This made silence and solitude so unbearable that he rose and dressed himself. He would go for a walk and clear his head. She must see it would not do. They had always agreed before on all matters of importance. Things could not have changed so much. Arabella, whom he had trusted implicitly -- in whom he had placed all his faith, because he believed her faithful! But she was faithful, the most loyal person he knew. That was the difficulty.

This tired sequence of thoughts repeated itself as he unlatched the kitchen door and walked out into the garden. It was still so early, and he was so distracted, that Jonathan gave no thought to secrecy. But he was served out for his carelessness, for Lady Pole stood by the gate.

"I saw you in the window," she said. "I thought you might come out."

He looked at her. There seemed nothing at all to be said. Then he thought of something.

"If you were a man I could call you out," he said.

"Then it is good I am not. She would hate for us to duel," said Lady Pole.

That was a fair answer, but Jonathan did not like to hear Lady Pole speak of Arabella -- that little tender emphasis on _she_ \-- so he walked on. But Lady Pole followed him.

"I wish to speak to you," she said.

"That is unfortunate. I do not wish to speak to you."

"Mrs. Strange is greatly distressed."

That was almost funny. Jonathan paused. "You call her that, do you?"

"I call her Bell," said Lady Pole. She had an uncompromising manner that was odd in a woman. It was not that she was absent-minded, for with her direct gaze, she gave the impression of being wholly present and intent upon her interlocutor. But she imparted also the conviction that she did not care one whit what anybody thought.

She watched the effect of her words upon Jonathan with a look that was not amused, precisely, but unmoved. It seemed to say: "That hurt you. Poor fellow! But there are greater matters at hand than your feelings."

"But Mrs. Strange is the name by which I have always known her," she added. "She was always your wife, above anything else."

Jonathan did not want to respond, but Lady Pole was walking along with him, with an air that suggested it would require much greater magic than he knew to dissuade her. And he could not think of anything else but Arabella and the appalling situation in which they were placed. It was almost a relief to speak, though it was to his rival.

"It does not seem to have made much of a difference this past decade," he said, knowing it was unfair even as he said it.

Lady Pole was not shocked at this ungraciousness. She only said calmly:

"You have not been here. How would you know? You have only seen her restored to happiness. I saw her in her grief."

"That is all very well, but have not I a right to that happiness?" said Jonathan, thinking, _Damn the woman. She makes it impossible to say what one thinks and appear anything but a cad!_

"Do you?"

"I had believed marriage gave me _some_ rights to my wife," said Jonathan.

"These rights you still possess in the eyes of the law," said Lady Pole. "Though you abandoned Mrs. Strange for fifteen years. I know," she held up a hand, forestalling protest, "it was not by choice, but all the same, that is how matters stand. If you were to command her to give me up, the world would say you had only done what was right –- what was your due, as her lawful wedded husband. The only claims I have upon her are those of friendship -- attachment -- fidelity. They are nothing -- insubstantial as the wind. You could tear them apart with a word.

"She would listen to you, you know," she added. "Arabella would much rather live in accordance with convention than in defiance of it. That is one of the many differences between us. You could order her to leave me, and she would object, but she would do it, in the end."

"Oh, I suppose I could!" said Jonathan irritably. "But meaning no offence, I wish her to give you up of her own accord."

"There was a part of _me_ that had hoped she had stopped loving you," said Lady Pole. "I only knew it existed when you reappeared." She sighed. "But it is easier for me. I always knew I had not supplanted you."

"Curious! To all appearances, that is just what you have done."

"You are a magician," said Lady Pole severely. "Ought not you to be able to see beyond appearances?"

"I used to know Arabella's heart," said Jonathan. "I do not know that I can say that any longer."

Lady Pole lost all patience.

"Oh good heavens!" she cried. "I had forgotten what it is to deal with men. Cannot you put self-pity aside for a moment and think about what is to be done? Arabella must have made herself plain to you; she is not one to mince her words. She will not happily give either of us up. I am sure you would like to see me at the North Pole, and I confess I was very comfortable before you returned. But I do not mean to surrender Bell, and it is clear you do not either, though you seem content to quarrel with her till Judgment Day. You will wear her to a shadow, and make us all miserable, so had not we best come to an arrangement?"

"The arrangement my wife proposed?" said Jonathan, with hauteur. "You cannot imagine I could agree to it."

"I had thought .... " But Lady Pole hesitated. This was so uncharacteristic of her that Jonathan stared.

"It is nothing," she said at his look.

"I beg you will say what you intended," said Jonathan.

"I was only about to say that I had thought you would do anything for Bell," said Lady Pole, though she did not seem to be saying this to score a point. Indeed, she spoke with some embarrassment. "You must recall that the last time I saw you was at -- was at Lost-hope."

This silenced Jonathan. After a moment Lady Pole said:

"I do not mean to make any difficulty. I can see that it is a great deal for you to swallow. Arabella will have told you that I prefer to live independently -- this house and grounds were part of my settlement -- but if it would suit you better to live in Shropshire, I would not object. We need never see one another if it makes you ill at ease, though Bell would like us to be civil. But she need not expect to have everything her way, any more than you or I."

"I would have said before that any friend of Mrs. Strange's was welcome at Ashfair," said Jonathan. He thought they had gone quite far enough with this "Bell" business, but he was not as short as he might have been. He recognised the concession Lady Pole offered, and he knew enough of her already to understand that she did not often offer concessions. "But the circumstances are such that ... as you say, it is not only my wife's wishes that must be considered. There is Sir Walter to think of."

A chill fell across Lady Pole's countenance.

"Sir Walter has nothing to do with me," she said. "Nor I with him."

"Perhaps not. All the same, he is my friend, and he would not like me to invite you to live under my roof."

"You make it sound as though I would be living under your protection!" exclaimed Lady Pole.

"To the world, it is likely to appear little different."

"The world, Mr. Strange, has as little to say to what I do as my husband," said Lady Pole. "Am I to understand, then, that you refuse my proposal?"

"I am obliged to you for it," said Jonathan, to his own surprise. "But it will not do, ma'am. Perhaps if things had been otherwise, we might have been friends, but .... "

"Do you think I offer what I have for friendship?" said Lady Pole, her eyes gleaming. "Mr. Strange, to me you appear in the light of an enemy, as much as I must to you. But she loves you." She paused.

"You are not about to say you will try to love me?" said Jonathan. "For I must warn you that I will not credit it!"

"No," said Lady Pole, and laughed. She had not so much as smiled before, and the effect of this was the very reverse of reassuring. "I have only decided that I will not seek to destroy you. But I should not talk so wildly. Bell would scold me for it. It will seem incredible to you that I should speak of destroying you -- the second greatest magician of the age!"

But her tone of voice belied the humility of her speech. Jonathan recalled suddenly that Lady Pole had sought to _kill_ Norrell, and had only failed because she succeeded in shooting Childermass instead. It was an unnerving thought.

"Good day to you, Mr. Strange," said Lady Pole. "My offer remains open. I beg you will be tender of Arabella today, even if you mean to disagree. If you distress her overmuch, I may be compelled to take her away -- and I must warn _you_ , sir, that I am not easily thwarted nowadays!"

She had not taken ten steps when she checked and looked back, as though struck by an afterthought.

"I hope you will come to breakfast," she said. "Here is another thing you may wish to consider while you reflect upon my offer. I do not like eggs, and Arabella has avoided them for as long as we have lived together. There is not a chicken to be had within two miles of this place. But we have hard-boiled eggs for breakfast this morning -- five of them. Think of that, if you please!"

She did not wait for an answer, but strode off towards the house, while Jonathan glared after her, more intimidated than he would own even to himself.

* * *

Jonathan stayed and ate his eggs, but the atmosphere in Lady Pole's house was strained. Lady Pole did not trouble to address Jonathan any further. She was much taken up with her business, for at any one time she was busy hassling Ministers, campaigning for the increase of servants' wages, helping unwed mothers thrown upon their own resources, and supervising the progress of innumerable other charities and good works.

Arabella spent more time at home, managing the affairs of the household with her accustomed quiet competence and occupying herself in her leisure with the domestic pursuits that had once delighted them both. But Jonathan did not profit from the opportunities this afforded of speaking with her, for they could only disagree. Time did not assist: the more they talked, the firmer Arabella grew in her resolve. 

She would not bind him to her. She knew her proposal must seem outrageous. But she could offer no more. However cross it made him, Jonathan must admit he could easily remarry. Indeed, if he wished, he could stop short of marriage and still enjoy female companionship, and no blame would attach to him. Everyone would still be glad of his acquaintance. He had all the great friends he had had before, and could make more if he wished: everyone was wild to see Mr. Jonathan Strange.

But Lady Pole was a woman alone. She had made herself unpopular with her abundance of opinions and want of any reluctance to make them known. Having separated from her husband, she was no longer received by all her old acquaintance. It did not worry Lady Pole -- she did not go into society, save when it would advance one of her various causes -- but no one could live in complete isolation. Besides, said Arabella, she loved her.

After a fortnight of this, Jonathan was almost glad to be summoned to Hurtfew Abbey. The beacons Mr. Norrell had erected many years ago had fallen into disrepair during their absence, and though it seemed nobody had noticed this particularly, Norrell was determined to rebuild them. The work would take hardly any time with Strange and Norrell working together, knowing what they knew now, but Jonathan must welcome even a short reprieve. 

He did not know what he would do when he was done at Hurtfew. He thought of going on to London, and seeing what absence might do in softening Arabella's heart. But on the morning of his departure she stood at the door, watching his possessions being loaded onto the carriage. They had spoken little that morning, as if they both dreaded being drawn into an argument when they were about to be parted again. But she said suddenly to the manservant, as though she could not help herself:

"You have not forgotten Mr. Strange's blue coat, Hibbitt? Hurtfew is bound to be crawling with lords and Ministers and all sorts of great persons. The blue coat is the only one in which he is fit to be seen."

Hibbitt had no opportunity to reassure her, for Jonathan stepped down from the carriage and caught Arabella up in his arms. He did not say anything of significance; neither did she. They kissed and then he left.

His heart would certainly break, thought Jonathan. He wondered whether there was a spell to make it hold out -- some magic to enable him to endure this misery without giving in -- for his sanity was a rather more doubtful thing than it had been before the excesses in which he had indulged upon Arabella's abduction. He had not said as much to Arabella. He felt obscurely that this would not be fair play.

He was reflecting upon the possibility of magic curing heartbreak, or at least delaying it, while he worked upon the beacons with Norrell, but he grew careless, and Mr. Norrell became testy at his inattention.

"What can you be about, Mr. Strange?" he exclaimed. "I beg you will look at the state of the beacon off Folkestone!"

Jonathan looked down at their bowl of water with a start. He could not of course see anything: the beacons were as invisible as ever, but the application of Doncaster soon revealed the beacon at Folkestone as a giant towering over all the others. There was something else that seemed odd about it -- it moved strangely in the wind. Upon further investigation it proved that the beacon was made of jelly.

"It will work, however," said Jonathan.

"Of course it will work," said Norrell. "But it is not enough that it will work. You forget, Mr. Strange, that England is now full of magicians." He gave Strange an evil look, as much as to say he had not forgotten whose fault this was. "Any one of them may choose to inspect our beacons, and if they do, this will make us ridiculous!"

"On the contrary, likely it will only add to our mystery," said Jonathan. "We will receive more invitations than ever to address their damned societies."

He spoke with more honest feeling than he intended, and even Mr. Norrell could not mistake the weariness in his voice. Norrell looked at him in surprise, and said:

"Are you well, Mr. Strange? This is quite unlike you!"

Jonathan buried his face in his hands.

"I beg your pardon," he said, after a moment. "I am not myself."

"No, you are not!" said Norrell. He looked as though he was considering taking offence at it. But Jonathan did not let him speak.

"I am troubled about my wife," he said.

"Your wife? Mrs. Strange?" said Norrell, as though Jonathan might suddenly produce another wife who was worrying him. "But is she not alive?"

Jonathan blinked. "She is. However -- "

"She has not been taken again?" said Norrell. "I must say it is very careless of you to lose your wife again, Mr. Strange. No one could have reproached you on the first occasion -- there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent that, to be sure. But now you have been forewarned, I really think you might have taken better care!"

"She is not lost," snapped Jonathan. "That is to say, not in the way you mean."

"Why, then, what can be the matter?"

It might seem surprising that Jonathan was willing to confide in Mr. Norrell about such a matter, but they had passed a great deal of time together -- more time, in fact, than was represented by the fifteen years that had passed in England, for what had existed on the other side of the rain was not time as it was ordinarily understood, but something more closely approximating eternity than anything any living human being had experienced.

The fairy's curse had afflicted Mr. Norrell because the spell could not distinguish between the two English magicians. Since then, time and magic had made it so that Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell could no longer clearly discern the difference themselves.

Strange recounted what he had discovered regarding his wife's living arrangements and what she had proposed. But he was surprised at his friend's response.

"It seems a sensible proposal," said Norrell. "If Lady Pole likes the country, she will have no objection to Ashfair. And Ashfair," he added in an undertone to himself, "is a good distance from Yorkshire!"

Jonathan stared. "You cannot think I will agree."

"Whyever not?"

"It is outrageous," sputtered Jonathan. "I did not marry in expectation of sharing my wife with Lady Pole!"

Norrell could see that Strange was in one of his odd moods.

"But it seems likely that Mrs. Strange did not marry in expectation of living alone for fifteen years," he said, a little nervously. "She might of course have been prepared to be made a widow. Indeed, nothing was likelier than that you should be killed in the war. You are right, perhaps -- but then, you know, no one would have objected to her living with Lady Pole as a widow."

"It is not Arabella's living with her that I object to," snarled Jonathan. He reddened at the thought of what else Arabella might have done with Lady Pole, but continued, "I hope I am not so ungentlemanly as to begrudge her any companionship she could find in my absence. But I do not think it is unreasonable of me to desire her to leave off now. After all, we each promised to forsake all others."

He took a turn around the room while Norrell stared wistfully at the image in the water of his beacons.

"I do not say she need abandon Lady Pole utterly," said Jonathan. "I am no ogre, however Lady Pole's servants may glare at me ... I am very happy for her to visit us. Though it would only be decent in her to delay any visit till my wife and I have had a chance to be reacquainted." He looked daggers at a painting of a Yorkshire landscape upon the library wall.

"Is Mrs. Strange so much changed?" said Norrell, puzzled.

"No," said Jonathan, after a pause. 

He saw himself and Norrell reflected in the glass of the painting. Norrell looked, as always, as though he had been fifty the day he was born. Nor had Jonathan aged while he was away. It occurred to him that Arabella must look different -- and he recalled that this had been part of his first impression of her, upon seeing her again. There had been something about her eyes and mouth that altered the look of them. He had been too much overcome at the time to analyse this, but imagining her face in his mind's eye now -- how clear every feature was! What a gift, to be able to remember her! -- he saw that the difference was age.

The lines carved by time had made Arabella less pretty, but more beautiful, somehow. They made her look wise and good, like a virtuous queen in a fairytale. Too good for Jonathan, but then that had always been the case.

"She must look a great deal older," Norrell remarked. "But I would not have thought you would need much time to improve upon your acquaintance. I had thought you knew one another well enough already."

"She is not changed appreciably, in any respect," said Jonathan, bridling a little. "It is only our circumstances that have altered." He made a noise of irritation and turned away from the glass.

"It is absurd to be so tormented by love at this age!" he exclaimed. "Arabella and I should be living in the country with a parcel of children, quarrelling over no issue of more importance than whether I ought to call upon Mr. So-and-so."

"Well," said Norrell cautiously. "It is not a subject of which I have made any study. But if it is children you desire, I would have thought that was still possible. Though I would counsel against it, Mr. Strange. A magician has no business having children -- " 

_Or being married,_ he was about to say, but he decided against it upon seeing Jonathan's face.

"Of course," Norrell said hastily, "you need not have children with Mrs. Strange. If Mrs. Strange will not alter her position, I suppose you may sue for a divorce and take another wife, who will not be so troublesome."

But he might as well have expressed his real view on magicians and marriage, for this was altogether the wrong thing to say.

"I do not want a divorce!" said Jonathan through gritted teeth. "Do I seem so fickle? Surely I have done enough to prove I do not want any other wife but my own!"

Norrell looked perplexed. Then his expression cleared.

"You mean your ill-judged experiments!" he said. He sniffed. Norrell had never been quite reconciled to the esoteric magics Strange had performed to bring back his wife, even though they had had the inadvertent effect of restoring magic to England. "But you may at least comfort yourself that you encompassed your aim. You wanted Mrs. Strange alive, and she has been living. It is a pity you cannot have her as she was, but that is the nature of living things. Now that we are living again, we must expect to change, too." 

He looked around the library and sighed. It was clear he was happy as he was, and the notion of change held little appeal for him.

Strange seemed abstracted. He said mournfully, but with an air of not paying much attention to what he said:

"I confess I did not do what I did in a spirit of pure altruism. I had hoped for a reward. But how one's desires turn to greed! Once I would have been overjoyed at a chance to touch Arabella's hand again -- to hear her speak. Now I will not have anything but herself, her undivided affection, and all the years we have lost, that we might have spent together."

"Well, you know as well as I, Mr. Strange, that magic has a way of overturning all one's best laid plans," said Norrell. "And we have not so many years remaining to us to achieve what we should like." He gave the beacons a pointed look.

Strange showed no sign of paying any more regard to this than he had paid to Norrell's other arguments, but he said no more. They returned to their work, much to Norrell's relief.

For the rest of the few days Jonathan Strange passed at Hurtfew they spoke only of magic. Norrell was rather sorry when their work on the beacons was completed and Strange declared his intention to depart, but for Strange and Norrell a physical separation no longer meant what it had, before the Darkness had taken them. Norrell did not even trouble to press his friend to stay:

"Though you must come to see me again soon, Mr. Strange." He added in a burst of generosity, "Bring your wife, whoever it is -- that is to say, I should be pleased to see Mrs. Strange again. Till then, I will write to let you know what comes of my study of florilegia. I believe there may be more in them than I had believed, but then we live in a world transformed! Where do you go now?"

"I think I will go home," said Jonathan. "I have been away long enough."

"I will write to you at Ashfair, then."

"Not Ashfair," said Jonathan, with an odd smile. "Mrs. Strange still resides with Lady Pole, you know. Let me give you the direction. They are exceedingly close with it, for fear of being harassed by magicians."

* * *

Jonathan was less quarrelsome when he returned from Hurtfew, which worried Arabella. She was cutting flowers for the house when he came out into the garden one morning, looking grave, and she knew the moment had come -- the moment she had feared.

She had known, the moment he returned from Hurtfew, that he had made up his mind. She was ready for his decision. She would not listen to the desperate voice that scrabbled at the edges of her mind, insisting that she might still hold him if she promised him what he desired. Such a simple thing, after all. Such a little thing, when he had suffered so much for her sake. Emma would understand. She had had so many years with Emma, and so little time with Jonathan. She could not bear for him to leave her again.

The voice only said what was true, but the voice did not know the whole of it. Arabella was capable of enduring anything. She would hold to her resolve. Jonathan could not stop her from loving him, at least, whatever he did. That was a comfort.

She rose, holding her basket, her back straight and her eyes fixed upon her husband. She only hoped she would not cry.

To Jonathan, Arabella, gilded by the morning sun, her arms full of flowers, was almost absurdly beautiful. It recalled to him with painful intensity the day she had accepted his offer of marriage.

He had, of course, as good as proposed several times before he had seen any success. He had not thought of it in many years, but there had been another fellow sniffing around her at the time they were courting -- an Army captain, was he not? Odd that he should have forgotten, when the fellow used to loom so large in his thoughts! Now he did not even recall the gentleman's name. 

Did Arabella ever wonder what her life would have been if she had married his old rival instead? It had never occurred to Jonathan to ask. It had seemed so obvious that she was meant for him. He had never had any doubt that he would make her happy, if she would only let him.

"You have risen early, Jonathan," she said.

"There are spells that can only be performed at dawn," he said. He took the shears from her. "Norrell asked me to look into them, but I keep forgetting to wake up early enough."

"I am almost done." Arabella hesitated, then added: "There are only the roses for Emma's study left to gather."

"Lady Pole must certainly have her roses," said Jonathan. 

Contrary to her expectations, he seemed glad of the reference to Lady Pole. Inspecting a rosebush, he said:

"I wished to speak to you about Lady Pole, in fact. I had hoped you might use your influence with her, to prevail upon her to give me the music room. I know it is presumptuous, but she does not seem to have much leisure to play the piano, and the room gets a great deal of light, since it faces east. If I sleep there I am much likelier to keep up this study of morning magics. You will not mind the light -- and if you do, I suppose you will be passing some evenings elsewhere in any case. I mean to say, you need not spend every night with me."

So far Arabella had not spent _any_ of her nights with Jonathan. They had not spoken of it before, but now he added, with some constraint:

"I suppose you have been sleeping with Lady Pole."

"I have been sleeping on my own since you returned," said Arabella. "In one of the spare bedrooms."

It was the first time she had slept alone in many years and it had taken her a little while to grow accustomed to it, but she did not tell him this.

Jonathan said, "Ah! I did not know!"

He hesitated as though he did not know how to continue, but then he plunged on, speaking hurriedly:

"You ought not to suspend your life on my account. I have been churlish, Bell. I wished you to live and be happy -- I told you not to be a widow -- and when you listened to me, I turned around and reproached you for it."

"Oh Jonathan," cried Arabella, but he said:

"No, hear me out. I have been thinking about what I might have found when I returned to England. You might have resented me for my failure to protect you from the enchanter. You might have been ill -- or changed by your time in Fairy. Good God, you might have been dead! And I have been railing at you because you will not give up your friend!"

"Any man in your position would have been indignant," said Arabella. 

"But I married you, you know, because I thought I should make you a better husband than any other man," said Jonathan. He tossed the shears to the ground, removed the basket of flowers from Arabella, and took her hands in his. "It is past time I proved it."

"Jonathan, you have proved it time and again, and I am so sorry -- "

"And that is another reason we must abide with one another. No other man living could put up with being so constantly contradicted. Now, I have not dared to address Lady Pole, but she has yet to withdraw her offer, so if it is still open, I think we ought to start by staying here. I do not say I will not wish to remove to Ashfair in time -- we would have more space, you know -- but I can see it will require some great act of generosity on my part to gain her good opinion. Tell me the truth, Arabella. Does she dislike me because I did not rescue her from her bondage sooner?"

"To own the truth," said Arabella, after a pause, "I had not known she disliked you at all. She always spoke of you kindly before. Though she tries her hardest not to show it, I think she is jealous."

Jonathan laughed. For the first time in weeks, it was a genuine laugh -- the laugh Arabella remembered. "Then that is another thing we have in common. We will muddle through it somehow, I suppose. There is only one matter to which I should like your consent. We can give it out that Ashfair is too magical, or too cursed, or too anything, for us to live there, so that we are staying with Lady Pole as her guests, but I should like to write to Pole and tell him the truth. I do not expect him to like it, or to forgive me, but he deserves that much of me."

"It is for Emma to say whether you may," said Arabella. "But I doubt she will withhold her consent. Emma is never unjust. But I hardly know what I am saying. I had thought you were about to tell me that you had decided you must leave me. Do I hear you aright, Jonathan? Do you still love me?"

"Love you!" said Jonathan. He let go of Arabella's hands, the better to take hold of her. "Bell, you are the wellspring of my life. I did not contend with death and madness to bring you back out of courage. It was cowardice that drove me. I could not face a world that did not have you in it." 

Arabella was weeping, as she had hoped she would not, but there seemed no reason to refrain now.

"I do not say this is what I dreamt of," said Jonathan. He wiped the wetness from Arabella's eyes, and she kissed his fingers, tasting salt from her own tears. "Truth be told, your Emma frightens me! But to be with you, on whatever terms, is more than I had any right to hope for. I shall try, Bell."

"Jonathan," she said, and kissed him. This turned into a somewhat protracted exercise, till Arabella managed to extricate herself. She said, a little breathlessly:

"Jonathan, the servants!"

"Oh very well," said Jonathan, but he did not let go of her.

"I cannot say how I feel your goodness," Arabella began.

"I beg you will not. The decision is entirely selfish. I shall have all the advantage of it, for Lady Pole acquires a magical house guest, which she cannot like, and you will have all the joy of apologising for my unamiable habits."

"But what changed your mind?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I simply had the opportunity to think on matters when I went away." 

He did not mean to tell a falsehood in omitting his exchange with Mr. Norrell. He had in fact forgotten that this had occurred outside his own head. Their long absence together had wrought curious effects upon both magicians, and it did not occur to Jonathan that Arabella might soon find that her husband, too, no longer belonged entirely to her, as she was not solely his.

For now, however, he seemed in every respect the Jonathan she had lost. He added, "After all, when you think about it, you could have married anyone. Why, you could have married John Segundus!" 

He laughed as at a great joke, but his laugh trailed off at Arabella's look of embarrassment. "You do not mean to say Segundus offered marriage? The hound!"

"Do not be unjust, Jonathan. We all thought you were gone forever," said Arabella. "It was only his esteem for you that -- we corresponded about his biography of you."

"I have read it. It is not a bad book. It came close to doing _you_ justice. So he fell in love with you, did he? Confound him! I can do very well without such marks of esteem."

"He is a dear man," said Arabella, smiling, "but by then, Emma and I, you know .... "

"Oh, I know!" said Jonathan. "I suppose I should account myself fortunate that you are willing to receive me. And that Lady Pole has consented to spare you for several weeks, if you have been sleeping alone since my return. I suppose she will not mind sparing you another night?"

* * *

"There is nothing in your magical parties! Cecilia swore Mr. Jonathan Strange would be here tonight, and there is not hide nor hair of him. Of course one could not expect to see Mr. Norrell in town, but I am positively _desolee_ to be deprived of a sight of Mr. Strange."

"Cecilia is spreading falsehoods. There is no prospect of seeing Mr. Strange in town for many months. Have not you heard Mrs. Strange has just been brought to bed of a boy?"

"Mrs. Arabella Strange? But she is forty if she is a day!"

"It is odd, but there it is. 'Tis said it is a changeling. Or perhaps John Childermass's son." It was not clear from the speaker's tone of voice which alternative she deemed more scandalous. "The magician Childermass, you know, that used to be in Mr. Norrell's service."

"People will say the most ridiculous things. As though Mr. Strange would ever countenance the insult! Most likely it is a changeling. Though it is curious that Lady Pole remains with them. They say she quite lives with them now, being such a friend of Mrs. Strange's, and everyone knows she abominates magic."

"Rumour has it Lady Pole's connection with the Stranges is of quite a _different_ kind. They say when Mr. Strange was away in Fairy he adopted their customs, and fairies are like foreigners -- they are never content with only one wife. You know Lady Pole is separated from her husband in all but name."

"Oh, shocking! I cannot believe it of Mr. Strange! The Strangeites all declare he is so devoted to his wife."

"These magicians are depraved beyond description. As for Mr. Norrell .... "

"But you know, I cannot credit what you tell me of Mr. Strange. Quite apart from anything else, it is absurd that anyone so celebrated as Mr. Strange would choose Lady Pole of all females as his mistress. She is practically a recluse, and those who have seen her say she is quite gaunt and old."

"It is scarcely more credible that Mr. Strange should be devoted to his wife. She may have been tolerably pretty once -- I have heard it said she was -- but he does not look a day older than thirty, and she not a day under forty."

"Well, I was never so deceived. It is one thing for a magician to be wicked. That is only what one would expect. But that he should do it with so little regard for taste or fashion! I declare, magic has lost all its charms for me!"

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Jonathan/Arabella and Arabella/Emma story, as written by a Jonathan/Arabella shipper. Arabella/Emma feels aren't really the focus. But the pairing is definitely part of the story!


End file.
